


Humble Soldiers of the Fire

by Scribo_Vivere



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Castiel's Grace, Dean's Soul, Demon Dean, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Emotionally Repressed, Fear, Grace Bonds, Halloween, Heavy Angst, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Charlie Bradbury, M/M, Potions, Protective Castiel, Rituals, Smut, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-01-29 03:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12621640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribo_Vivere/pseuds/Scribo_Vivere
Summary: Halloween was never Sam's favorite holiday, but everything just got far more complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a work in progress, and I promise to post as many chapters a day/a week as I can (I have a very busy schedule!). As the chapters keep going up, I will notify for incoming smut when it occurs. Lol. Thanks in advance for sticking with me through all of this! Love you all! <3

“Charlie, no.”

The redhead pouted at Sam through the computer screen, her dark eyes pleading. “Come on, Sam, please? It'll be so much fun.”

The younger Winchester shook his head, firm in his answer. “No,” he repeated. “This is a bad idea, and you know it. We already deal with ghosts and every other kind of unsavory creatures all through the year, and now you want to give them open invitations to waltz into the bunker? I don't think so, Charlie.”

She sighed. “Putting up Halloween decorations and giving kids candy isn't technically saying you want to have all the vampires, witches, and goblins in the neighborhood over for tea. I'm just saying that maybe you need to do something festive.”

“That's not my idea of a good time.”

“What is, Sam? Sitting around staring at all those old books and trying to find a way to save Dean? I love him too, but we need to face the fact that he's gone Darth Vader on us and isn't going to come back. Ever.”

Sam visibly stiffened, and Charlie quickly backtracked, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“I'm sorry,” she apologized. “I know this is hard, but I really do believe that getting out of your own head would help. You're going to either make yourself sick or make yourself crazy. Or both.”

Sam's jaw twitched. He knew she was right, but ever since finding out that things really did go bump in the night, he'd hated Halloween. In his mind, it was just another way for the bad spirits to get a tougher grip on the world, and he didn't fancy playing Ghost Detective all evening.

He also didn't want Dean to see an opportunity to come out of the woodwork and make a play. His brother had disappeared after Castiel and Sam had tried—and failed—a second time to cure him with human blood. Unable any longer to bear the sight of his brother made into a raging pincushion, Sam had left Castiel to guard Dean. When he'd returned (after downing half a bottle of Jack), Castiel was nowhere to be seen, and Dean's chair was empty, the ropes lying useless on the stone floor. After a few frantic calls, Castiel had reappeared, looking disheveled, angry, and pale. Somehow, Dean had managed to banish him without moving a muscle or creating a sigil, which meant that Sam's worst fear was realized: Dean was truly embracing his status as a Knight.

“Sam? Are you okay?”

Sam forced his mind out of its reverie, smiling at Charlie tightly. “Maybe you're right. But if we're going to celebrate Halloween, we're going to do it my way. Nothing happens here. We can go out.” _And I can keep an eye open to make sure that Dean stays hidden in the hole he's made for himself somewhere._

Charlie's eyes lit up. “For real?”

Sam sighed. “Yes, for real.” _I'm going to regret this._

Charlie clapped her hands together, once. “Awesomesauce! I'll meet you tonight at seven at the Black Dragon.”

Sam groaned. “That death metal bar? Seriously?”

She winked. “Beggars can't be choosers, Sam.” An instant later, his Skype screen showed she'd logged off.

XXX

The Black Dragon was hidden in the middle of what seemed like an unassuming area of Lebanon. It had been built in the early 2000s, and while it at first appeared to cater to the younger generation of Goths and darker music lovers, it soon became a haven for the tough crowd—bikers, gangs, etc., and most of the reasonable people in the area stayed away from it. When asked why, they'd usually come up with some sort of comment about how the place was an eyesore, or the raucous crowds and thumping bass beats were disturbing their sleep. The truth was, the bar/club—referred to simply as “the Dragon” by its patrons—was heavily insulated to prevent noise spillover, and any unsavory activity took place inside the building. What the locals were afraid of, then, was something they couldn't see.

As soon as Sam parked in the spacious asphalt lot, the hair on the back of his neck rose, and gooseflesh broke out along his arms. It was obvious that there was some serious paranormal activity around, and he was suddenly very glad that he'd stashed Ruby's knife in his boot and loaded the Impala's trunk with fresh shotgun shells, salt, holy water, and rifles.

Charlie greeted him enthusiastically as he got out of the Impala.

“It's about time you came!” Leaning in close, she whispered, “I've been waiting to hit on that gorgeous blonde bartender for two hours.”

Despite himself, Sam laughed out loud.

“Seriously, Charlie? You wanted me to come so you could have an open invitation to flirt with the bargirl?”

She shrugged. “Hey, I know how to pick 'em.” A wicked wink was sent Sam's way, and he shook his head.

“Right. Okay, then, have at it, I guess. I'll just be sitting at a booth.”

“Oh, no.” Charlie grabbed hold of his arm. “You're not spending the entire evening huddled by yourself in a corner. We're going to have fun, Sam. Remember?”

Letting the redhead drag him inside the club, Sam pretended to shrug off his worries, but his years of training refused to take a back seat. Eyes roaming the dance floor and seats, he was relieved to see that nothing otherworldly was visibly present. Still, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was there that shouldn't be.

“...is my friend Sam,” Charlie was saying, and Sam blinked, realizing that somehow they'd ended up at the bar without him noticing. Thinking back on what Charlie had said about her crush, he couldn't hide a smile as the pretty young woman wiping out a glass behind the counter shouted over the bass beat, “What can I get you two?”

“Beer, whatever you have on tap,” Sam replied, and she nodded, moving to pour it. However, Charlie leaned over the bar a little, batting her eyelashes slightly. Sam almost snorted, but held it back at the last minute.

“What do you recommend?” she said sweetly, and the bartender put the full glass down, leaning forward as well and exposing her ample cleavage under the thin band shirt she wore. Her grin was very, very naughty.

“Depends on what you're looking for. I can recommend something light, or we can go darker.”

“Sam, why don't you go mingle?” Charlie said quickly, and waved her hand haphazardly in his direction. “Like somewhere over...there.”

Sam raised an eyebrow mid-sip. “Really, Charlie? I thought you wanted to have some fun.”

“Excuse us,” Charlie said, still sweetly, and grabbed Sam's arm, leaning in to whisper harshly in his ear. “Please, please go find someone to talk to or bang, because if I let this opportunity go by, I will never forgive myself. Look at her, Sam! She's practically throwing herself at me.”

“Charlie--”

“Pleeeeease,” she wheedled, and he sighed.  
“Okay, okay. Just be careful, and don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

She winked at him. “That's not saying much.” Turning back to the bar, where the woman was watching her in amusement, Charlie started over.

“Sorry about that...where were we?”

Sam shook his head as he moved away, a fond smile on his lips despite himself. After what they'd both been through, Charlie really did deserve to be happy, even if that meant a one night stand. She was a grown woman, after all.

“Good evening, Sam.”

The other man jumped, sloshing beer down the front of his shirt, and also onto a passing patron's shoes, who gave him a glare as he went by.

“Jesus, Cas!” he yelped. “Don't do that!”

Castiel tilted his head in what looked like a rather insincere apology, and Sam frowned as he inspected the angel further. “What's going on?”

Castiel's trademark trench coat, blazer, and tie were missing, his white sleeves rolled to the elbows. He looked exhausted, and when he spoke, Sam could hear it in his voice.

“I've come from battle. Demons have infiltrated Ash Creek Township, near the river. They are guarding the place with their very lives—seven of which I took this evening in an attempt to gain information about what is so valuable to them. They outnumbered me, and I was forced to retreat.”

Sam blinked. “They outnumbered you? How many are there, Cas?”

“At least fifty, if not more.”

Sam's mind reeled. _Fifty demons or more? For what?_

“Cas, we need to go check this out. It sounds serious.”

Castiel shook his head. “I cannot allow you to walk into that type of danger.”

“The demons might be planning something huge. We have to know. I'm going, Cas,” Sam said firmly.

The angel glanced over at the bar, where Charlie was animatedly talking to the girl, whose laughter rang out at something the redhead had said. “What about her? She can't possibly come with us.”

As much as he hated himself for it, Sam shook his head. “Let's just go. Charlie is a big girl. She can handle herself. Dean taught her everything she knows.” At the mention of his brother, Sam felt his throat tighten.

Castiel looked away, his eyes haunted. “I'm truly sorry, Sam. I should have done more in my part to cage your brother. It's my fault that he is now loose in the wind.”

“You can't blame yourself, Cas. If it wasn't you, it would have been me, and I'd be dead.” Sam drained the last of his beer and placed it on a nearby empty table. “Come on.”

Reluctantly, Castiel followed Sam out the door, leaving Charlie to her own devices.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween was never Sam's favorite holiday, but everything just got far more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a work in progress, and I promise to post as many chapters a day/a week as I can (I have a very busy schedule!). As the chapters keep going up, I will notify for incoming smut when it occurs. Lol. Thanks in advance for sticking with me through all of this! Love you all! <3

“You know,” the demon drawled, idly playing with his knife, “you're not much help when it comes to locating one random little featherbrain. Kind of makes me wonder why I've kept you around this long.”

The other hell spawn, who was inhabiting a young brunette in her thirties, visibly trembled. “I'm sorry, sir. We've all looked high and low. He seems to have...disappeared after our altercation earlier.”

Swiftly, the other demon rose from where he perched on a rock, towering over her, his face like a thundercloud as he spat, “Maybe you should look a little harder, sweetheart. I'd hate for a pretty young thing like you to go permanently AWOL.”

“Yes, sir,” she squeaked, and scurried off, leaving him nearly alone except for the four burly male demons that quietly lurked beside him in the dark.

Dean ground his teeth. He'd deliberately left breadcrumbs so that Castiel would follow him to this place, only to have him slip through his fingers at the last moment. He wasn't going to let the angel escape a third time. Why he hadn't stabbed him through the heart at the bunker the first time around was beyond his comprehension.

But no, that was a lie, he thought, his coal colored eyes staring into the distance. He knew exactly what had kept him from smearing Castiel's blood and feathers all over that library like a skinned chicken. He was still too human at that point, so he'd chosen to walk away. That was an error he wasn't going to repeat. Castiel had meant something to him, once—Dean wasn't _that_ far gone yet to know that the angel had been a friend, a family member, an almost-lover—but the more he killed to silence the Mark, the more those memories faded. And that was just the way he wanted it.

“Sir.”

Dean's black gaze flicked up to one of the guards, remembering the Hindu demon called himself Ansu. Whether it was the name they gave him in the Pit, or his human's name, Dean didn't really give a shit, as long as he did his job. So far, he hadn't been a disappointment.

“What is it?” he said softly, almost dangerously. When he was in such a mood, most demons knew not to disturb him for fear they would lose their lives, but Ansu was obviously not one of the timid.

“A few of the demons are reporting what appears to be a human skulking around the water.”

Dean stilled. “What does she look like?” The Knight really didn't care, but the excitement of the kill was always helped along when a pretty young thing saw him for what he was and started screaming. Of course, those screams never lasted long.

Ansu's black eyes glinted in the dim light. “It seems to be a man instead of a young girl, and fairly strong, if the way he's already dispatched half of the group is any indication.”

Dean rose at that, the First Blade in his grip. “Well, then, let's go give him a proper lesson on what happens when you wander where you're not supposed to go.”

XXX

Sam withdrew Ruby's knife from the throat of the last demon, darting behind a towering red maple and nearly falling over Castiel, who had just ended the life of a straggler from the group in a flash of white light.

“Cas!” Sam hissed. “What have I told you about sneaking up on people?!”

“I'm sorry,” Castiel replied, sounding utterly unapologetic again. Sam snorted quietly, and muttered, “Are you sure about your headcount of the demons? What we just came across didn't seem too bad.”

Castiel's gaze was steady. “Yes, Sam. I am also sure that you may not be prepared for what you encounter this evening.”

For the second time that night, Sam felt gooseflesh rise on his arms and neck, but all he said was, “I know how to do my job, Cas. It may not be simple, but it's the same get in, take out the trash, and get out scenario that I've been handling my whole life.” Soundlessly, he slipped from their hiding place, skating along the edge of the trees. He didn't both to look back. He knew Castiel was there.

The area by the creek would have been impossible to see around had Sam not been a hunter. It was lit only by a crescent moon, which kept playing peek-a-boo with the clouds above. Not a sound could be heard except for Sam's quiet footsteps, and that alone gave the man reason to believe he was headed into an ambush. Nevertheless, he kept going, unwilling to give up on the chase now.

A chuckle from somewhere to his left had Sam cocking and aiming his gun in one swift movement, but no one and nothing appeared. Still, Sam wasn't a fool, and din't plan on putting the weapon down until whatever had made the noise showed itself.

Rustling all around him now made Sam stop, his heart beating furiously with adrenaline. He knew he was being surrounded, and he wondered what was taking the angel so long.

“Castiel won't be causing any problems tonight. Let's just say he flew back to his nest.”

The voice was familiar, but somehow, Sam couldn't place it. Keeping his gun trained on the darkness around him, he replied tightly, “What did you do to him?”

“What he deserved.” The tone was like a whipcrack, brutal and unforgiving. “You'll get the same treatment if you stay here.”

“I'm not going anywhere, so I guess I'll just have to take my chances,” Sam replied grimly, and took one small step forward, dry autumn leaves crackling under his feet.

“Well, aren't you the suicidal little hero.”

“Why don't you come out and show your ugly face?” Sam snapped. “I want to watch the light leave your eyes.”

There was silence, as if the voice was considering the words, and then it spoke again. “You're a hunter, obviously.”

“Damn right. And you're going to know exactly who sent you back to the Pit—Sam Winchester.”

There was a brief moment when there was not a sound nor movement, and then a demon stepped into view, black eyes cold. The features were unmistakeable, and Sam's gun slipped to the hard ground as his breath faltered.

“...Dean?”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween was never Sam's favorite holiday, but everything just got far more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a work in progress, and I promise to post as many chapters a day/a week as I can (I have a very busy schedule!). As the chapters keep going up, I will notify for incoming smut when it occurs. Lol. Thanks in advance for sticking with me through all of this! Love you all! <3

Charlie tapped her foot impatiently as she stood in the parking lot of the club. It turned out the beautiful bartender had someone else, who had discovered their attempt at a tryst and had quite emphatically told the redhead that her dream girl was “absolutely, completely off limits, so get lost”. Now, Sam was nowhere to be found, even though Charlie had looked for him everywhere. She was hoping that he was just in some remote corner having a little adult fun, but as she looked around the parking lot, there was no sign of the Impala, and that was starting to both annoy and worry her.

“Need a ride, sweetheart?”

Charlie turned, glancing at the tall, dark-haired guy that had suddenly appeared out of thin air, it seemed. He looked pleasant enough, but something deep in Charlie's gut twisted at the sight of him, and she unknowingly backed up as she spoke.

“Um, no, that's...that okay, I have a friend coming,” she lied.

He smiled at her. “I'll wait with you then. It's getting late.”

“You really don't have to,” Charlie replied quickly. “I'm sure he'll be here any minute.” She made a show of fishing for her phone. “I actually should call him, make sure he isn't stuck in traffic, you know how that goes...” she babbled nervously.

Tall and Dark laughed. “Oh, honey, no one's coming for you.”

Charlie's heart skipped a few beats, and she surreptitiously slid her hand into her sweatshirt pocket, where she'd hidden a very sharp switchblade. While it wouldn't stop anything creepy, it would be enough of an annoyance for her to make a run for it.

“No,” she insisted, “he'll be here any second.”

A rough hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back and making her squeak loudly in pain. The fingers of his other hand closed tightly around her wrist, forcing her to drop the knife even as she struggled to pull it out. The demon reveled at the terror in her eyes as his own flicked to an oily black.

“Like I said,” he grinned, “no one's coming.”

XXX  
Sam found he was having trouble breathing as he stared at his brother, memories surfacing in his mind and threatening to overwhelm him. Dean looked so... _wrong._ Pale and all sharp lines, Sam wouldn't have been surprised to see horns sprouting from the top of Dean's head...and maybe there were.

“What's the matter, Sam? Don't know a Knight of Hell when you see one?” Dean taunted, and at last Sam found his voice.

“Have you been causing all this?” he said shakily. “All the kidnappings; all the murders?”

Casually, Dean folded his arms. “I've had help. I'm sure any good hunter with a brain knows demons don't work alone.”

The jab stung like it was meant to, and Sam blurted without thinking, “You're an idiot. Did you really think that deciding to let the Mark take over meant Castiel and I weren't going to find you? Sooner or later you're going to regret what you've done.”

“Is that what you think?” Dean's voice was amused. “Poor little Dean Winchester, a sad sack who relies on alcohol and his brother to keep him afloat.” The demon's expression turned mutinous in an instant, his voice a hiss. “Well, news flash, Sammy: I'm not human anymore, and I don't plan on returning to being one. Personally? I like the killing. It _satisfies_ me.”

The double meaning behind the words had Sam swallowing down bile as a large group of demons appeared out of the darkness, laughing obnoxiously.

“I'm going to save you, damn it,” he said staunchly, and Dean's rage escaped full force. Without warning, he'd thrown himself at Sam, tackling him painfully into the twigs and loam. One strong hand wrapped around his throat and began to squeeze.

“Is this what you want?” he roared. “Do you want to die trying to _save_ me? I'm not who I was, Sam, and I'm not going back. Ever.”

Stars dancing on the edges of his vision, Sam clawed at his brother's hand. “Dean,” he wheezed. “Please.”

With a final squeeze, Dean let him go and rose—gracefully, like a cat—and snorted.

“You're weak, Sam. Just like you've always been. You should have known it was always going to be this way. I was always going to be stronger; faster; _better._ I'm not your equal anymore, and you'd do well to realize that sooner rather than later.”

Carefully, Sam got to his feet, the gun lost somewhere in the scuffle.

“What did you do to Castiel? Did you kill him, too? I know he meant something to you once.”

Dean's eyes were cold and calculating as a slim brow rose. “Oh, did he now?”

“Don't play with me,” Sam snapped “He loved you, and I know you loved him too. You were just too damn stupid to admit it.”

Dean was silent for a few moments, his eyes trained unblinkingly on his sibling. Just as the scrutiny was becoming unbearable, Dean spoke, his voice low.

“If you really want to know, I banished him. You remember what those sigils did to his kind. You'll find him somewhere in a field the next town over. I made sure he'd be disoriented enough to have to take his time getting back.” Dean turned away. “Go, Sam. I'm through playing, but I won't give you the opportunity twice.”

A lump rose in Sam's throat, and he reached out a hand unbeknownst to himself. “Dean--”

His brother spun around with a snarl. “ _Go._ ”

Eyes damp with regret, Sam knelt, ruffled in the leaves, found his gun, and stood. Every instinct in him said to shoot Dean, but instead he chose the coward's way out.

He left.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween has never been Sam's favorite holiday, but everything just got far more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a work in progress, and I promise to post as many chapters a day/a week as I can (I have a very busy schedule!). As the chapters keep going up, I will notify for incoming smut when it occurs. Lol. Thanks in advance for sticking with me through all of this! Love you all! <3

Charlie slowly lifted her head as she came to, her skull pounding. Something wet and sticky was matted in her hair, and her hands and ankles were bound to the rickety chair she was sitting on. Wherever she was being held, it was damp and cold—a basement, probably. No doubt the demon that had knocked her out and brought her here had hoped that she'd never be found, which she thought was odd. It wasn't as though she wanted to die at the hands of a hell spawn, but snatch, grab, and leave usually wasn't their style.

Something suddenly ran across her foot, and Charlie let out an undignified, high-pitched squeal as she felt a tail and fur.

_Not rats, oh please don't let there be rats in here..._

The air in the room suddenly grew very cold, like an ice chest, and Charlie's heartbeat accelerated tenfold. She wasn't a fool; she'd been around the Winchester brothers long enough to know what that signal meant: a ghost, and usually in their case, not a friendly one.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” she called out quickly. “I, um, kind of can't, actually, I'm tied to a chair, so if you wouldn't mind just, uh, not bothering me, that would be great...”

A rush of air next to her left shoulder had Charlie holding her breath, and if it was possible, it became even colder. The air wavered in front of her, and then, between one blink and the next, an apparition of a pretty young girl appeared, silently assessing the redhead. She made no move, and neither did Charlie.

After a few moments of (admittedly creepy) silence, Charlie spoke softly.

“Hi. What's your name?”

There was no reply, and Charlie tried again. “Why are you here? Did someone hurt you?”

The girl's eyes darkened, and the air became electrically charged. The hair on Charlie's neck rose, and she knew that she'd hit a nerve. Once more, she tried to communicate.

“Was it someone you trusted? Did they break that trust?”

The apparition blinked out of sight, and Charlie thought that was the end of it. She breathed a sigh of relief that quickly ended when the girl appeared again, her expression twisted into one of rage, fear, and sorrow as she spoke in a garbled hiss that, nevertheless, Charlie somehow understood.

“ _Save him. Then peace will come.”_

By now, every single hair on Charlie's body was standing up. “Save who?” she said breathlessly, feeling as if her ribcage was being squeezed. “What do you mean?”

But the girl was gone, and Charlie realized that somehow, she was free. And what was worse, she had an inkling that she knew exactly what the ghost was talking about.

XXX

Sam was frantic. He hadn't heard from Charlie since he'd gotten back to the bunker three nights ago, and Castiel's attempts to calm him weren't helping.

“Sam, I'm sure she's fine,” the angel said, as the other man sat at the bunker's table in the library, head in his hands. “She is resourceful, and she knows how to fight.”

Sam stood and placed his hands on the mahogany wood, shoulders hunched. “What if she isn't, Cas? What if she's suffering somehow, somewhere? I'll never forgive myself. I left her at that bar, alone.”

“Sam--”

The ringing of Sam's cell phone interrupted whatever Castiel had been about to say, and the other man snatched it up, pressing it to his ear.

“Hello?” After a pause, he said, “Oh thank God,” and put the phone on speaker, laying it on the table.

“Go ahead, Charlie.”

“Hi, nerds.” Charlie's voice was slightly less chipper than usual, but as far as Sam could tell, she sounded fine. “Having fun? I know I am.”

Castiel leaned over the table towards the phone. “Where have you been? Sam and I have been worried about your welfare.”

Sam looked up at Castiel, surprised. The angel wasn't usually prone to expressing his emotions, but Sam knew that deep down, Castiel liked the redhead.

“Well, since Sam decided to go AWOL on me,” she chirped, “I got kidnapped by a demon and trapped in the basement of some really gnarly house. Oh, and I had this totally far-out encounter with some ghost.”

Sam was well aware that his mouth was hanging open, and Castiel took over.

“Did you know this demon?” he asked, and Charlie made a sound that was very much like a snort.

“Uh, no. He definitely wasn't my type. Couldn't tell you where the house was either, but I can relay what happened with the ghost.”

“Please do.”

“Well, it was a girl. Young, too; my age, I guess. She just appeared in the basement and wouldn't talk to me for a few minutes, just stared at me all creepy, but then she told me something that's totally given me the heebie jeebies.”

Finally finding his voice, Sam spoke up. “What did she say to you?”

“ 'Save him, then peace will come'. I have no idea what that means, but I'm really hoping that we're not about to go chasing a ghost all over a smelly dark basement again, because...well, because it's gross.”

Castiel had remained very still while the conversation had been taking place, and once Charlie and Sam hung up, he asked, “Why has the ghost chosen Charlie?”

Sam blinked. “I don't think it's 'chosen' her, Cas. She just happened to be the demon's victim and brought there. The ghost would have shown itself to anybody, I'm sure.”

Castiel perched on the edge of the table, looking pale and weary.

“Sam, Charlie is a very bright, perceptive soul. She always has been. Creatures from other worlds pick up on things such as that.”

Sam shook his head in confusion. “I don't get it, Cas. She saw a ghost and it gave her a weird little phrase. What does that have to do directly with Charlie?”

Castiel's gaze was somewhere else. “ 'Save him, then peace will come.' She was the one person that Dean felt closest to, besides you and I. She may be the only one that can bring him back.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Sam held up his hands. “Are you telling me that Charlie has some sort of role to play in making Dean human again?”

“It is my suspicion she has _the_ role to play, Sam.”

“Okay, this is crazy.” Sam sat heavily on the chair nearest him. “What does this all have to do with a ghost trapped in the basement of a house?”

Castiel smiled wryly. “Research it.”

XXX

After five hours, Sam had found his answer, but he didn't like it, and when Charlie returned, he had a strong feeling she wasn't going to like it either.

Soon enough, the sound of the bunker door opening was heard, followed by a “What's up, bitches?”

Sam stood, looking up the stairs as Charlie hopped down them. She wasn't hurt—not that he could see, anyway—but her eyes told a different story. She'd obviously been scarred by the entire episode, and Sam enveloped her in a warm hug.

“Are you going to be okay?” he murmured into her bright colored hair.

She snuggled against him for a moment, then pulled away with what Sam knew to be a forced grin.

“Absolutely. However, I require java and a shower. Rain on an already cold October day sucks.”

Sam hesitated as he watched her walk away, but it was now or never. “Um, Charlie...we need to talk. About Dean.”

He watched as her steps slowed, and then finally ceased altogether. She was silent.

“I know you understood what that ghost was trying to say,” Sam went on softly. “It wasn't about her demise, and she wasn't haunting you because you happened to be in her final resting place. The Sallie House's reports said the ghost only showed herself to or went after men.”

“Case closed, then,” Charlie said quickly. “It was random. The echoes of the past had caught up to her and were replaying, that's all. She was thinking she had to warn me about the doctor that killed her.”

“Then why was it the phraseology said 'him'? Most creatures are aware of the existence of a new Knight, and most are afraid.” Castiel's quiet voice could be heard from the library entrance. Sam hadn't even noticed him there. “I know you don't want to face this, Charlie, but you alone must save Dean from what he now is.”

At last she turned around to look at Sam, and her face was streaked with tears.

“Why me?” she whimpered. “Why do I have to do it? He was my best friend, and now he's a demon and wants to destroy the world and I have to...I have to...” She started to hiccup hysterically, and to Sam's surprise, Castiel went to her, brushing his knuckles against her damp cheek.

“I know,” he murmured, “and I am truly sorry. But Dean is too far gone for the Ritual of Purified Blood to work.” For just a moment, Castiel's eyes showed great grief. “He must die.”

Sam swallowed a large lump in his throat. _There has to be another way,_ he thought. _This can't be the end of my brother._

For long moments, the two men stood in the library as Charlie wept. Suddenly, Castiel spoke, haltingly.

“Unless...”

Sam jumped on the word immediately. “Unless what? If Dean doesn't have to be murdered, Cas, you've gotta let us know. Now.”

“There is another ritual,” Castiel said slowly, and Sam instantly leapt for the bookshelves. “Great. Give me everything you've got. I'll start to look through the--”

“Sam.” Castiel's tone paused the man's frantic movements in a second. “There is no written lore on this particular ritual.”

Charlie sniffled, wiping her eyes as she looked up at the angel hopefully. “Then I don't have to kill Dean?”

Castiel stared straight ahead, looking almost...fearful, Sam thought.

“Perhaps not, if my way works. But...” He paused, then looked Sam straight in the eyes. “You cannot come to my aid. No matter what you hear, or see.”

Sam frowned. “I don't—what are you talking about?” Then it dawned on him. “Wait. Are you doing the ritual on _yourself_?”

“Yes. And you must lock me away for my own safety—and yours.”

Unexpectedly, Charlie laid her head on Castiel's shoulder, surprising the men.

“Will it really save Dean if you do this?”

Castiel affectionately brushed his fingers through her long locks. “It is my prayer.”

Sam sighed. “What do we have to do to prepare, Cas?”

“Nothing.” The angel loosened his tie. “Where is the nearest space with a locked and barred door?”

Sam shrugged. “We can put you where we held Dean.”

“That will do.” The angel turned and began to walk away. Before he left the library, Sam called out, a strange, unwelcome feeling in his gut.

“Castiel, you're going to be fine, right, after this ritual is over?”

The other creature stopped, his shoulders lowered, and then spoke—just three words, but they filled Sam and Charlie with fear.

“One can hope.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween has never been Sam's favorite holiday, but everything just got far more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a work in progress, and I promise to post as many chapters a day/a week as I can (I have a very busy schedule!). As the chapters keep going up, I will notify for incoming smut when it occurs. Lol. Thanks in advance for sticking with me through all of this! Love you all! <3

Castiel locked and barred the door behind himself, resting his head against it for just a moment. He was not unfamiliar with what he was about to do.

The angelic ritual had not been performed since the Nephilim walked the earth thousands of years ago. It was meant to both protect and bind one who had gone astray—usually a mate, although that was not always the case—but the means of accomplishing it was...uncomfortable, to say the least.

The angel withdrew into the center of the room, where he proceeded to undress. Clothes were never a necessity to him; he could just as easily have walked around naked. Dean, however, had informed him (rather panicked) that this was not acceptable, and would definitely get one arrested.

Once he was unhindered by material, Castiel let his wings expand onto the temporal plane. They felt heavy, and he craned his neck, staring at them sorrowfully. The feathers were matted and broken in places, and soiled with dust, dirt, and grime. Some were near to falling out.

Castiel sighed and began to smooth them out, using a small amount of grace to clean them until they shone, the iridescence almost blinding. Deep inside, he wished that Dean was grooming him...but he could not allow his mind to travel there. More important things were at hand, and if he could not focus now, he would not be able to when the pain came...for pain there would be.

What the angel had not told Sam and Charlie was that the ritual required a number of things, including blood—his own blood, spilled at his own hands. He knew that if he had divulged the actual requirements, either Sam or Charlie would have tried to stop him. But there was no going back. Not now, not when Dean needed him most. He would not fail.

With a steady grip, Castiel drew his blade.

XXX

Sam had just finished toweling his hair dry from a shower when he heard the first bone-chilling scream, and he turned the corner at a full sprint, barreling into the kitchen. Charlie was standing up at the table, her eyes wide, a mug of hot chocolate shattered at her feet.

“What's--” she began, and then a second scream sounded, this one more like a wail. Sam shook his head, and then he remembered what Castiel had told them earlier that day.

“ _You cannot come to my aid. No matter what you hear, or see._ ”

“It's Cas,” he said quietly, taking the frightened redhead's hand. “He said not to go help him.”

Charlie looked at him, her face pale. “But he's _screaming_ down there, Sam. Can't we do something? I love Dean just as much as you do, and want him to be cured too, but is it really worth Castiel nearly killing himself over it?”

A low moan rang throughout the bunker, and Charlie shuddered. “That sounds horrible,” she whispered.

“I know,” Sam replied. “Believe me, Charlie, I know it does. But if I can get Dean back after all this...”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and Charlie's eyes went soft.

“I understand,” she murmured, and then, suddenly, she chuckled humorlessly.

“What's so funny?” Sam asked, and she smiled grimly at him before pointing at the clock, whose hands were resting on twelve.

“Morning, Sam. Oh, and Happy Halloween.”

XXX

Castiel dragged himself upright, his breathing erratic, and slit his palm through a wave of agony, letting the blood drip onto the floor and the ancient sigil he had drawn around himself previously. He allowed it to pool in the bowl of herbs and spices, which he had obtained directly from Israel prior to the ritual's start, and spoke, his voice labored.

“ _Through blood and fire I mark thee; with pain and intent I claim thou art cleansed. Thy trial ends; to I thou belongest, and I alone. It is done.”_

The earthenware pot glowed a pure silver, and tendrils of white and gold snaked upwards toward the ceiling. Reaching painfully beside him, Castiel uncorked a small bottle and captured both inside the glass, corking it swiftly in order that not one piece of the essence would escape again and render the entire ritual useless.

Castiel shuddered, his wings fluttering with the movement and causing him to nearly bite through his tongue as spasms lanced through the ligaments. He needed to heal, but with his grace depleted and wounded as he was, he could not. He would have to drag himself upstairs on his own.

XXX

Charlie's eyes were drooping, and Sam squeezed her hand. “Go to bed,” he said softly. “It's three in the morning.”

“The Witching Hour,” she murmured drowsily, but stood on shaky legs and stumbled to the percolator, somehow managing to turn it on, and fumbled with the coffee can. “ 'M gonna stay up,” she said stubbornly. “I wan' make sure Castiel is okay.”

“Charlie,” Sam argued calmly. “You can barely walk or speak. I can take care of things.”

“No,” she glared at him, although it looked more like a cross-eyed pout. Sam sighed, knowing there was no stopping her when she got like this.

“Hello, Sammy.”

The whisper made Sam freeze, and he slowly turned. Behind him in the kitchen doorway, nearly in his face, stood none other than Dean, a sly smile on his face as he flipped the First Blade from hand to hand. His brother's eyes were an inky black, and he put a finger to his lips. Sam didn't dare disobey, if only for Charlie's sake.

“Sam,” Charlie whined at him, as she turned around again. “Why isn't the...”

Her eyes became as large as plates when she saw the other man, and her swallow was audible. It was clear to Sam that she was terrified—and he wasn't feeling much better.

“Dean,” Sam said, slowly raising his hands. “Don't--”

“Don't what?” Dean smirked, stepping down off the threshhold into the kitchen. When he saw Charlie, his expression twisted into something that made Sam step forward. Immediately, a jawbone was at his throat. Without looking at him, Dean spoke.

“You move from that spot, you die. Messily.”

Charlie was frozen to her spot as Dean's eyes flicked to her, but she queried in a broken tone, “Are you going to hurt me? Please don't hurt me.”

Dean's grin was petrifying. “Oh sweetie, I think you want me to.”

Charlie's whimper was awful to hear, and Sam took an enormous risk. In one swift movement, he'd kicked out and caught his brother in the shin. It apparently didn't hurt, but was enough to startle Dean, who growled in irritation and turned away from the redhead, dropping the blade from Sam's throat.

“Charlie, run!” Sam yelled, and she darted for the exit.

Dean caught her around the waist as she attempted to bypass him, laughing mercilessly. “Oh, no, honey. You're staying right here. And while we're at it, you can watch him die.”

Surprising Sam—and apparently the Knight—Charlie reared her head back and spat in his face.

“You're not Dean,” she snapped. “And I'm not going to let you kill Sam.”

To Sam's shock, she pulled what looked like a very old, very powerful knife from her pocket and drove it into Dean's right bicep to the hilt.

The demon howled in pain, releasing her instantly and stumbling back. Charlie grabbed Sam by the hand, yanking him backwards.

“Come on!”

XXX

Castiel had heard the commotion, and though it took every ounce of willpower he had to do so without screaming, he drew his wings back into the invisible world, forcing himself to get upstairs as quickly as possible. He was just rounding a corner when Charlie and Sam barrled around it, stopping short when they saw him.

“Castiel,” Charlie gasped. “Holy Batman, you look--”

Castiel shook his head. “Never mind. Dean is here, isn't he?”

Sam spoke, his voice low and urgent. “Yeah, and he's intent on slicing and dicing. Charlie managed to slow him down, but it won't last long.” He looked at the redhead quizzically. “Where did you get that knife anyway?”

“I found it after I saw that ghost. It was lying in a heap of crap beside the doorway out. It was half hidden, but I saw it. It was almost like the ghost wanted me to take it.”

“CHARLIE!”

The roar echoed throughout the halls, and Charlie cringed, visibly shrinking into herself. Sam pushed her behind himself in an attempt to protect her, and then Dean's yell came again.

“Come here, you little bitch! I'm going to make you sorry that put that pigsticker in me!”

His voice was closer now, and tears filled Charlie's eyes. Sam whispered fiercely to her, “It's going to be okay, Charlie.”

“Actually, it's not.”

Sam spun around and instantly took a punch to the face, which sent him flying onto his backside, blood pooling in his mouth and ears ringing. Through a haze of pain, he saw Dean backhand Castiel, who stumbled but did not fall. The demon took the angel by the throat and began to throttle him viciously as Charlie watched in terror, knowing she would be next.

“You just don't quit, do you, Feathers?” Dean ground out, as Castiel struggled. “I told you, I'm happy with what I am—and I really, _really_ don't like change.”

“Then I pity you,” Castiel managed. “Transformation is a part of life—and yours will be saved.”

Sam blinked as the angel withdrew a miniature bottle from somewhere on his person, uncorking it. Gold and white light swarmed together and made a beeline straight for Dean's open mouth, disappearing inside without a sound.

Dean let go of Castiel, his hands flying to his own throat as his eyes flicked to black.

“You son of a bitch,” he gasped. “What did—how--”

Castiel replied calmly, “An ancient ritual. Your soul and my grace, bound together for eternity.”

Dean choked, backing up, eyes shifting from coal black to olive green intermittently. He fell to his knees, snarling at Castiel.

“This isn't over.”

“Oh, but it is,” Castiel replied softly; dangerously. “Be gone.”

Dean threw back his head, letting out an ear-splitting scream as deep red smoke poured from his mouth and nostrils. Moments later, it had dissipated, and Sam watched in horror as his brother crumpled to the floor, completely unresponsive.

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween was never Sam's favorite holiday, but everything just got far more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a work in progress, and I promise to post as many chapters a day/a week as I can (I have a very busy schedule!). As the chapters keep going up, I will notify for incoming smut when it occurs. Lol. Thanks in advance for sticking with me through all of this! Love you all! <3

Castiel entered Dean's room, warm from a recent shower but aching deep in his bones. He was exhausted, but made his way toward the bed, where Dean lay quiet and still. His eyes were closed.

The other man perched on the edge of the coverlet and reached out, gently touching Dean's cheek. There was no response, but Castiel had expected as much. The ritual rendered one unconscious until the bond called out.

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel murmured. “What an enigma you are.” He paused. “If only you understood how you have changed me...and how much I am the better for it.”

A soft knock on the doorframe made Castiel look up. Charlie stood there, her eyes wary and sad as she looked at Dean's form.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Castiel's gaze was piercing. “Do you want him to be?”

Charlie squirmed under the scutiny and plain question. “Of course I do.” She paused. “Even though he went insane and tried to kill me.” There was a hint of bitterness in her tone, and as Castiel continued to look at her, she sighed.

“I love him to pieces, Cas, but what he did was really not cool. And honestly? I don't know if I can trust him again.”

“He will not come out of this the same way he went in,” Castiel said softly. “He will be himself, but he will have all the memories of his time as a Knight of Hell. The ritual could not erase that piece, unfortunately. And he will need Sam's help to overcome them...and yours.”

“I don't know how to help him,” Charlie said quietly. “And he'll be a mess when he finds out what he tried to do, especially to me. I'm like the little sister he never had or wanted.”

“Forgiveness is a powerful healer,” Castiel replied gently, and Charlie looked at the floor.

“I know,” she admitted. “I just need time.”

“That is understandable,” the angel replied in a soft voice, and then shifted his gaze to Dean. “I am sure that he will, too.”

Charlie was silent for a moment, and then said, “It's almost dawn, Cas. I'm going to try to go to sleep.”

The angel gave a nod, never taking his gaze off of Dean. The redhead quietly padded down the hall, but not before taking one last long look at the angel and the hunter. It was clear how Castiel felt, and Charlie could only hope that he didn't get emotionally slaughtered when Dean finally came around.

XXX

Dean's head was pounding, and his mouth felt like a cotton ball was permanently lodged inside. Swallowing, he forced himself to open his eyes.

Even the dim lamplight sent pain lancing through his skull, and he groaned, shutting his eyes again. Immediately a familiar face was leaning over his, the expression concerned.

“Dean?”

The man in question groaned again. “Yeah, Cas.”

Castiel watched him carefully. “Look at me,” he half-commanded, half-asked.

Reluctantly, Dean opened his eyes again. They were his own, and Castiel breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The ritual had worked—but to what extent was still to be seen.

“What the hell happened?” the other man muttered. “I feel like I went ten rounds with a Golem.”

The angel peered at him, hesitating, and Dean said, “What?”

“You do not remember?” he replied, and a sudden onslaught of memories and visions buried Dean under a crushing weight of guilt, regret, and shame. He curled into himself, grabbing his head with both hands and tugging at his hair.

“Fuck. FuckfuckFUCK.”

Castiel reached out, gently touching the man's wrist. Dean instantly reacted, jerking away from the angel as if he'd been burned, eyes wide.

“Don't.”

“Dean--”

“Don't 'Dean' me,” was the frantic reply. “You don't know what I did. How I was. What I _became_.” he spat the last word as though it was raw fish.

Castiel felt a wicked wrench deep inside, and knew he was feeling the man's pain. He tightened his grip on Dean's arm, voice firm.

“That does not decide who you now are.”

“Really?” With surprising strength for a human, Dean pulled out of Castiel's grip and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing and beginning to pace. His voice got louder with every word.

“I was a Knight of Hell, Cas. I took people prisoner and liked it. I made sure they never made a sound again after that. I—I _tortured_ them and I fucking **got off** on it.” His breathing was strained. “And I threatened Sam. I almost killed...” He swallowed hard. “Charlie. Poor Charlie.”

“She isn't dead, Dean,” Castiel replied, rising as well. “Neither of them are. Somewhere, something inside of you recognized that they were your family. You did not harm them.”

“But I could have. That's the point--”

“No, it is not,” Castiel said in frustration. “You're not a demon anymore. You have been saved, and damn it, Dean, I will continue to save you every time until my last breath of existence, do you understand?”

The other man stared at him, and Castiel could see the gears in his brain clicking. Finally, Dean asked, “What did you do?”

Castiel sighed. “Dean, it's almost dawn. This discussion can wait until later in the morning. We need sleep.”

“I don't give a fuck,” Dean said stubbornly. “What the hell did you _do?”_

“I performed an ancient ritual that bound us together for the rest of time—your soul and my grace melded. We are forever tied to each other,” Castiel replied, somewhat irritably. “Whatever one feels, so will the other. Our tears, blood, joy, and pain are permanently linked.”

Dean's response was one Castiel had been expecting, but the tug of desperation and affection on the bond was not.

“You're a fucking idiot, you know that?” To Castiel's surprise, Dean's eyes were wet. “I'm not worth shit.”

Castiel stepped forward into Dean's “personal space”, measuring his reaction both physically and through their bond. He was afraid and miserable, but there was a glimmer of something else; something that Castiel had suspected was there, but that Dean had never shown.

Love. True love, such as the man had been longing for all his life and had never really received. It was directed at the angel, and Castiel knew he must tread carefully.

“Dean,” he said softly. “You are worth everything. To Sam, to Charlie. To me.”

A single tear slowly tracked down Dean's cheek as he whispered, “Goddamit, Cas. This fucking bond...you already know how I feel.”

Castiel smiled wistfully. “I have known for years.”

Dean's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed tightly, and then came the question Castiel had been waiting to hear.

“Can I kiss you?”

In answer, Castiel cupped Dean's chin with a gentle hand, murmuring, “ _Zirdo aala.”_

The Enochian wasn't lost on Dean, whose lower lip trembled slightly before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the angel's.

It was a chaste kiss, but Castiel felt the intent behind it in the very marrow of his being. The bond sang with devotion, and it made the angel ache with fierce protection for the man.

Dean pulled away, his thumb tracing patterns over Castiel's cheekbone, and said tentatively, “I love you, Cas. I just...don't know what to do with it yet.”

The angel leaned into the man's touch, eyes locked onto Dean's. “I will be here for as long as it takes.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween was never Sam's favorite holiday, but everything just got far more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a work in progress, and I promise to post as many chapters a day/a week as I can (I have a very busy schedule!). As the chapters keep going up, I will notify for incoming smut when it occurs. Lol. Thanks in advance for sticking with me through all of this! Love you all! <3

The next few weeks were awkward, to say the least. Sam had more or less accepted that his brother was back with them again, but Charlie, it appeared, was dealing with it very differently than everyone else.

The first time she had seen Dean in the kitchen making breakfast, she had stopped short in the doorway. Dean had turned, locking eyes with her.

“Um...hi,” he said quietly. “I'm making omelettes and bacon, if you want any.”

Charlie's own eyes had gone from frightened to hurt to cold in a matter of seconds, and she'd replied icily, “I'm not hungry. Besides, I'd rather not get anywhere near you while you're chopping stuff.”

Dean's jaw twitched as he watched her retreat back upstairs. He knew he had deserved the harsh treatment, but to have it come from her was painful. Turning back to the counter, he continued to cut up the vegetables, tossing them into the egg-and-cheese mixture in the pan on the stove. He didn't hear Sam enter until his brother said gently, “Charlie will come around.”

Dean refused to look up, continuing to cook. His voice was very quiet.

“I wish that was true, or that I believed it, Sam, but what just happened proved she hates my guts. And she has every right to. I tried to kill her.”

Sam perched on the edge of a chair, weighing his words carefully.

“Dean, Charlie doesn't hate you. Neither does Castiel, and I don't either. What happened wasn't your fault. No one could have predicted what being murdered would do to you, and I know that your actions don't define who you are. My brother isn't evil, and even though you were a Knight for a while, it doesn't mean you have to let that sully the rest of your life. We all want you here, and we're glad that you're back. Please don't keep blaming yourself.”

Dean flipped the omelettes, his hand shaking slightly. “Why not? I deserve everything and anything that you guys send my way. Hell, I'd be surprised if Charlie didn't try to throw a punch at me again...or run me through in my sleep.”

Sam sighed. “She won't kill you, and she isn't going to try to start a fight. She's scared, Dean, and I can't blame her for that. But that doesn't mean you two will never have a relationship again.”

“Yeah, scared and pissed.” Dean served up the omelettes, placing them on the table. “I did this to her.”

He paused, looking at the doorway, his expression sad.

“The poor kid.” Dean sighed. “I'll be in the library, Sam. I can't eat.”

Sam watched as his sibling made his way out of the kitchen and headed down the hall, shaking his head as he sat down and pulled the omelettes forward, beginning to eat himself. He could only pray that Dean would heal.

XXX

“Charlie?”

The redhead looked up from the book she was reading—something about mysterious Ireland ghosts; she couldn't really concentrate—and instead of Castiel, who she had been expecting to see, Dean was in the library. Rising, she slammed the book shut.

“What, you're following me now?”

Dean looked pained. “Just...please, Charlie, let me explain.”

“There isn't anything to explain,” she bit out, feeling trapped and furious. “Just—leave me alone.”

Dean came forward, and Charlie stiffened. Despite it, the man kept walking.

“I can't leave you alone. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried. But I care about you, and...” He shut his eyes briefly.

“What I did to you wasn't me, Charlie. You have to know that. You have to _believe_ that. I'm not a killer.”

Charlie's eyes filled with tears, and she threw the book to the floor with a loud bang, her hands balling into fists.

“Not a killer? _Not a killer?_ I can't believe you! How can I ever trust you again, Dean? You were going to go all Freddy Krueger on me that night! Worse, I could tell that you were going to enjoy it. You were going to slice me up and leave me there to die...” Her voice hitched, and the tears began to flow freely as she continued brokenly.

“I know you were a demon, but Dean, there were times before you got the Mark when you acted un-kosher. What's to say that you won't do it again? That the demon is really gone for good? I don't want...I can't be...” She hiccuped. “I can't be your sacrifice. In anything.”

Tears streaked Dean's cheeks, and he whispered, “I'm so sorry, Charlie. I never meant to hurt you like this. You're like my little sister, and I...I blew it. And that's on me.”

Something in the way he was so contrite made Charlie's insides twist, and she wiped her eyes, sniffling.

“I know, deep down, that you're not a bad man,” she admitted. “It's just hard for me to see that right now.” She hiccuped again, cautiously going to meet him and staring into his wet green eyes.

“I love you, and we can get through this. Right?” she asked pleadingly.

Dean smiled half-heartedly. “Right.”

To the surprise of both of them, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing him tightly.

“Don't leave me again,” she whispered. “I need my Handmaiden.”

Dean returned the hug, resting his chin on top of her head. “I promise, my Queen. And Charlie, I really do love you, kid.”

She managed to smile through her tears. “I know.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween was never Sam's favorite holiday, but everything just got far more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a work in progress, and I promise to post as many chapters a day/a week as I can (I have a very busy schedule!). As the chapters keep going up, I will notify for incoming smut when it occurs. Lol. Thanks in advance for sticking with me through all of this! Love you all! <3
> 
> ****The next chapter after this one will contain smut.****

Dean stumbled up the stairs later, his body exhausted and his mind reeling with memories he didn't care to revisit. It was hardly even seven o' clock, but he couldn't function anymore. When he reached his bedroom, he tugged off his flannel shirts, jeans, shoes, and socks, and collapsed into bed in just his boxers. He wanted desperately to go to sleep, but he knew that wasn't going to happen for a while yet—if ever.

A soft tap on the doorframe made Dean look up, and Castiel started to move away as his eyes took in the man's undressed state.

“I apologize,” he said softly, but Dean waved him inside.

“ 'S fine,” he mumbled. “I can't sleep anyway. Just shut the door so we can talk.”

Surprised, Castiel did as he was asked. Dean was hardly ever willing to be the one to open up first, but given what had happened, Castiel figured he should be grateful the man wanted to have a few “chick-flick moments”.

Dean motioned for Castiel to sit on the bed, and the angel did so, unsure of where this was going. For a long moment Dean didn't speak, and then he said quietly, “I'm sorry, Cas.”

Castiel fought the urge to tell Dean he should have nothing to be sorry for, instead choosing to listen as the hunter continued.

“I shouldn't have been so thick-headed when you told me to be careful that night all those months ago, Cas. I knew that taking the Mark was a bad idea, but at the time I only wanted to use it to defeat Abbadon, and that's the truth. But little by little it took me over, and suddenly I wasn't Dean Winchester anymore.” He stopped and swallowed. “The night I killed Abbadon, I never wanted to do that to her body. I got so caught up in the Mark's fury that I literally stabbed her to death, and on my worst nights all I can see is her mangled body. Yeah, she was a demon, but there was a woman inside of her that I never even cared about.”

Dean reached over Castiel to grab a beer on the nightstand that the angel had not noticed, taking a deep pull from the bottle.

“I became a monster, and those memories are going to haunt me until the day I die. I can’t erase what I’ve done, and the worst part is that I don’t want to. I feel like I should keep them as a penance.”

The man dragged more liquid from the bottle, his eyes cloudy with guilt. “Why you didn’t kill me that night, I’ll never understand. No,” he began, as Castiel went to speak. “I know how you feel about me, Cas, but I was a threat—a threat that needed to be neutralized, and you didn’t do it. You saved me instead, and now I’m carrying Grace inside of me that I never deserved.”

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel growled, surprising even himself. Dean blinked at the change of tone in the angel’s voice, shifting on the bed. “You are the most stubborn, in-denial man I have ever had the irritating pleasure of knowing.”

Dean smirked a little at that, but upon seeing the fire in Castiel’s gaze, his face fell.

“Why you think I would allow you to fall back into the Abyss I drew you from so many years ago, I cannot fathom. You are a part of me as I am a part of you, and this occurred long before I performed the ritual to save you.”

Dean frowned. “What?”

Castiel sighed, leaning forward, a little of his ire dimming.

“As I am sure you are aware from Abaddon’s reckless plan to harvest them, souls are…explosive, to put it mildly. They can be harnessed for good or ill, and have the power to level entire cities if used for the darkness.”

“Damn,” Dean whistled, but Castiel was not finished.

“Dean, when we first met and I told you God had commanded you to be saved, I lied to you.” Castiel looked the hunter straight in the eyes.

“I volunteered to raid Hell. My garrison was different at the time from the ones you came to know, and they were willing to follow me anywhere.” Grief clouded the angel’s blue eyes. “Every angel perished in that battle, except me.”

Dean’s expression let Castiel know he was beginning to understand the magnitude of the tale. Quietly, he said, “God didn’t ask you? You just…went, and you were the only one left to rescue me?”

Castiel looked away. “Yes, Dean. My brothers and sisters knew the risks, but they fought for me to reach the bowels of Hell where you were being kept. They died protecting us both.”

The two were silent for some moments, and then Castiel continued, his voice heavy.

“When I held onto you in pulling you from Hell, my handprint was left upon your shoulder, as you well know.”

“I know,” Dean nodded, then, “But that faded a long time ago.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, Dean. It remains. The Mark subdued it for a time, but it never left…as I have never left you.”

At the words, a slight tingle traveled down Dean’s left arm, and he knew that were he to look, he would find the angel’s print as clear as day. He swallowed as Castiel kept going.

“What you do not know is that in the journey upward, you held onto me just as tightly—and I also bear witness to it.”

Carefully, Castiel unbuttoned his white dress shirt and let it slip off his back. Dean’s eyes widened at the similar handprint, although this one lay over the angel’s heart. It looked very much like a pale scar, and Dean whispered, “I did that?”

“Yes.”

Tentatively, Dean reached out, and then just as quickly withdrew his hand, afraid.

“This is your holy mark, Dean,” Castiel said softly. “Go ahead.”

Gently, the hunter traced the outline of his fingers on the heavenly being’s skin. Castiel shivered, and Dean murmured, “Am I hurting you?”

“Never.” Castiel seemed a bit breathless. “You will not.”

It wasn’t a command, but instead an expression of trust, and a lump filled Dean’s throat at the enormity of what Castiel had chosen to share with him. A sudden strange yearning filled his heart, and the man gasped at the intensity.

Castiel laid his hand over Dean’s. Blue eyes met green as the angel whispered, “ _Tol glo pamis momao ors,_ beloved.”

Dean started to tremble. “What is this?” he whispered back. “What’s going on?”

Castiel reached out with his other hand and touched Dean’s cheek gently. “We are bonding. The ritual I performed made sure of this fact.”

The hunter’s chest rose and fell rapidly as Castiel let his hand drop. “Don’t,” Dean begged softly, and then, when Castiel looked at him questioningly, he amended, “Please don’t stop touching me.”

A fire lit in the angel’s eyes, one that Dean felt to the very marrow of his bones. He whimpered as Castiel leaned closer, and then their lips met in a glorious, beautiful moment.


End file.
